


Statistically Falling in Love

by hawkywithshawzy



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, Hockey, M/M, Stats Guys!Kaner AU, und
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:39:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkywithshawzy/pseuds/hawkywithshawzy
Summary: Pat liked being the nerdy guy at school. He was good at it, actually. So when the head coach of the hockey team came up to him and asked him if he could take the stats for the upcoming season, coming off of a NCAA championship last year, he had no trouble saying yes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Venatrix26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venatrix26/gifts).



> My goal is to update this fic like once a week...maybe every Wednesday. We'll see. But I am already so pumped for it! Oh! And for reference, Ralph Engelstad Arena is the hockey rink at University of North Dakota, where Pat and Jonny go to school. They're both juniors. Yay! Enjoy!

Pat liked being the nerdy guy at school. He was good at it, actually. He always had the answer in math class, always knew the right chemicals to mix in chemistry class, and always knew what team had a highest scoring average in the league. He was a nerd, but he was no dork. He followed most of the major sports: NBA, MLB, NFL, NHL. He knew his homers from his touchdowns. He’s no dummy.

So when the head coach of the hockey team came up to him and asked him if he could take the stats for the upcoming season, coming off of a NCAA championship last year, he had no trouble saying yes. He liked math, he liked sports, and he liked having something to do other than sitting in his room studying for tests that weren’t for weeks ahead. Bottom line: he’d have somewhat of a social life.

The coach told him to come to the first week of practice, just to understand how they play the game, who is who, what stats they wanted recorded, and to meet the guys. Pat didn’t understand why he had to meet the team - he was fine just identifying them as their number and giving them numbers and then going back to his apartment. He was always down for a good hockey game, he loved watching the Chicago Blackhawks, but those players had no idea who he was and that was perfectly fine with Pat.

He walked into the Ralph Engelstad Arena on Monday night, head tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, shielding his face from the cold wind. Winter was coming, that’s for sure, and with winter comes hockey. Hockey at the University of North Dakota was seen as Christmas, all year long. Going to a hockey game was like going to church on Easter, and even more so, playing was like getting baptized into a whole new family. It was legit, to be frank.

Pat never got to feel that glory, having surgery on his leg his senior year of high school that stopped his playing career indefinitely. It was just before the playoffs, which made it even worse. But he always had math to lean back on, and when he stopped playing, he soared in academics. He won honor roll his last semester and graduated with high math honors. He was a stats major now, a junior at UND, and the sting of having an injury hadn’t bothered him until he stepped into the arena, smelling the freshness of newly laid ice. He missed hearing the crispness of tape-to-tape passes, the sound of the horn whenever a puck went in. 

“You lost?” someone said, pulling Pat back to the moment. He was here to take stats. That’s it. He looked up, a tall, brown haired, giant of a man was standing in front of him, a bag slung over his shoulder, four hockey sticks in his hands. He had deep brown eyes, but they were gorgeous, like Pat could get lost in them for days and not have any intention on leaving. Remembering he asked him a question, he said,

“Uh, yeah kinda. I’ve only ever been here as a fan. Do you know where your coach is? I’m the new stats guy.” The boy’s eyes seemed to perk up a little bit at the mention of the word ‘stats’. 

“Oh yeah! Q told us about you. C’mon, I’ll show you where his office is,” he said, walking down the hallway towards the back end of the rink. “My name’s Jonny, by the way, Jonathan Toews.” Ohhhh. That’s what he looked so familiar. 

“Captain Clutch, as they call you,” said Pat, avoiding Jonny’s eyes. “Do you prefer Jonny or Jonathan?” he asked, trying to cover up his embarrassing show of information. He was damn beautiful.  
“People call me Jonny a lot. I like it, makes me sound a lot less serious that most people make me out to be,” he said, chuckling a little bit. “I have quite a reputation for being like, a grumpy old man. Which I’m not, by the way,” he added. By the time he was done talking, they were at Coach Q’s office. 

“Well, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the door. “See you out there!” he yelled as he walked down the hall towards the locker room.

“Thanks,” Pat said, to himself. He watched Jonny walk down the hall, adjusting the strap on his shoulder, fist bumping another teammate walking in from the player’s entrance. He knocked on the door to Coach Q’s office, ready to get going on his first assignment.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, son,” Coach Q said as soon as he walked into the office. “Take a seat.”

Q didn’t have the biggest office, but he sure did have quite a big collection of plaques and trophies, shown off all over the room. NCAA trophies, medals with green and white and black ribbons on them, plaques that read “MVP: Jonathan Toews” (3 of them, actually), “Coach of the Year: Joel Quenneville”, and some that Pat assumed to be awards his kids have won: “Pee-Wee Forward of the Year”, “North Dakota State Hockey Championships”. His kids were cute, from the pictures at least.

“Don’t hurt your eyes, Kaner,” Q said, noticing him gawking at all the hardware. “It’s not going anywhere,” he said, chuckling.

Pat felt his face flush up at Q calling him out, but all he was focused on was the name he called him. “Kaner?” he asked, confused.

“Oh! Yeah! Jonny’s been trying to come up with a nickname for you. All the guys on the team have one - Sharpy, Shawzy, Tazer. He liked the sound of Kaner,” he said casually, putting a stack of papers on the other end of his desk. Jonathan Toews, never having a conversation with Pat before today, was thinking of nicknames for him. 

“So,” Q said, bringing Pat back to the moment. “Today’s the first day for everyone, so you’re not the new guy per say. We’re just planning on doing some ice breaker stuff, get to know one another, that kind of thing. Shawzy said the boys are looking forward to meeting you. They’re just as obsessed with stats are you are, kid, the only difference is that you know how to calculate them and they don’t. So just, be yourself, let the guys know what you need from them, and you should be good,” he said, placing his glasses on his nose. “Any questions?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Pat said, clutching his notepad in his lap. They’re excited to meet him. He hasn’t met someone in his life that was excited to see him besides his mom. Trying not to get in too over his head, Pat stood up and followed Q down the hallway to the rink. It was big, he knew that, but he didn’t know how big it was until he was standing at ice level. The banners hung above center ice, standing still under spotlights. The Sioux logo was freshly painted on the ice, every detail precise and accurate. Pat suddenly thought of himself out there, scoring goals and taking names, maybe even playing on the same line as Jonny. He was a center, and Pat was a right winger. It could be beautiful.

He took a seat on the visitors bench, empty except for a few scattered water bottles. He had his glasses in his pocket, and while he really didn’t want to wear them when meeting the guys, he was as blind as a bat without them, so he put them on and got his notepad out beside him. It was quiet for some time, just Q and a couple other coaches out on the ice, throwing pucks out across the rink. He was bouncing his leg, without meaning to, with the anticipation of what was coming. ‘They’re just normal guys, Patrick, there’s nothing to be nervous about,’ Pat thought to himself, trying to calm his nerves.

He could hear them before he saw them. Loud, boisterous, amped for what promised to be another hot season. They took to the ice, doing 3 laps around the rink before meeting at center ice for Coach Q’s practice plan. Pat watched them skate by him, flexing the tops of their sticks, making sure the curve was to their liking. On the second lap, a guy came to a halting stop in front of Pat on the bench. He was sweating already, breath heavy and labored. 

He lifted his helmet off his face, so he could see his face without the metal pipes. “What’s up man?” he said. He had a small scar on his left cheek, right below his eye. He had some acne, like everybody, but he had a smile that he never seemed to lose. It was infectious. “I’m Andrew, but the guys call me Shawzy. Or Mutt. Depends on how annoying I am somedays, they call me a ‘little fucker’, which I, for one, take with pride,” he said, leaning up against the boards. “You’re Patrick, right? Kane? Or Kaner, as Jonny’s been callin’ ya.”

“That’s me,” Pat said. “Nice to meet you, man, I’ve heard you’re pretty damn good.” He was more than good - Andrew had racked up a career high of 25 goals last season, with an impressive 30 assists. He hadn’t seen much ice time his freshman year, but his sophomore year was probably in vengeance of that. 

Shawzy ran one hand through his hair - it was pretty long, thought Pat - and seemed to be blushing a little bit. “Nah, all Saader’s doing, if I hadn’t played with him last year I would be just as bad as I was when I was a kid. He’s a kickass liney,” he said. He shoved his helmet back on his head, holding his fist out for Pat’s. “Gotta go, but I’ll talk to you soon. Bunch of the guys are hanging out tonight, you should come,” he said, skating off to meet with the rest of the team after Pat gave him a bump.

Practice went by pretty fast, just some basic drills to figure out lines and defensive pairings, and Pat got everyone’s numbers down pretty quick. Jonny, 19, Shawzy, 65, Crow, 50, Saader, 20, etc, etc. Seabrook liked his stats written in a column while Duncs liked his scribbled wherever, as long as he could read them. He introduced himself to everyone, much to his nerves, and he found out that Hossa likes mint chocolate chip ice cream but hates regular chocolate chip ice cream, and that Sharpy is studying to be an elementary school teacher. Everyone has dreams of going to the NHL someday, but nobody wanted it more than Jonny did. He was in the gym everyday he wasn’t at the rink, he trained harder, ate better, and wanted it more. There was a reason behind the C. 

Pat was walking out of the rink to his car when he heard Jonny call out from behind him. “Hey! Kaner! Hold up a second,” he said, jogging to catch up to where Pat was standing.  
“I’d hate to be the goalie on the other side of your puck, man,” Pat said, knocking Jonny in the shoulder. “You’ve got a damn good shot.”

He could see the flush creep up the side of Jonny’s neck, his eyes bashful looking at his feet. “Nah, I’m not that good. Lots of talent on our team,” he said, hand coming up to scratch the side of his face. Nervous ticks. Patrick has nervous ticks. He likes this guy more and more every second he’s with him.

“Anyway,” he said, looking up at Pat. “Did Shawzy tell you about tonight?” he asked, hopeful. “We’re all gonna hangout at my apartment, you’re more than welcome to come,” he said.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be there, thanks, man,” Pat said. 

“Here, let me give you my number so you have my address and stuff,” Jonny said, fumbling with his phone. They said bye, and headed their separate ways. 

He looked down at his phone, and Jonny had put the hockey stick emoji next to his name. What a dork.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short...but it leaves ya hanging, so I figured it's worth posting anyway. Hehehehe.

Pat wasn’t really sure where Jonny’s apartment was. UND was a mix of one-way streets, and random stop signs, and the same looking apartments on every street. His GPS wasn’t doing much to help him, and he really didn’t want to have to resort to calling Jonny, but he dialed his number anyway. He picked up after the second ring.

“Hey, Pat,” he said, voice loud over the thumping of music in the background. “Are you still coming?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m actually calling because I don’t really know how to get to your apartment. My GPS isn’t too smart,” Pat said, getting a chuckle out of Jonny. He could hear him a lot better now, probably stepping outside.

“Okay, so where are you now?” he asked.

“Uh…” Pat said, straining to read the street name. “I’m on Maple and Main Street,” he said.

“Oh, you’re super close! Just keep walking down Maple. I’ll be out on the front porch, you should see me soon,” Jonny said before hanging up. It only took Pat five minutes to get to his apartment, a UND Men’s Hockey flag hanging on the porch. Jonny was sitting on the railing, wearing jeans and a Winnipeg Jets t-shirt, a little wet around the collar, probably from clumsy drinkers. Jonny didn’t sound too drunk on the phone, so he didn’t think it could be him. He would holding a beer, though, so he must’ve been feeling something. He looked nice, skin soft and smooth under the dim light of the street lamp. He looked up from his beer to meet eyes with Pat.

“Hey Kaner!” he said, standing up to meet him. “You look nice,” he said, casting his gaze downward, almost embarrassed. He was cute. Damnit.

“Look who’s talking,” Pat said, knocking his shoulder into Jonny’s. He smiled, climbing up the steps. “You got anymore beers in there?” he asked, walking in the door behind Jonny.

“Hey, Sharpy! Can you get Kaner a beer for me?” Jonny asked, grabbing a seat on the couch, next to who he remembers to be Saader and Bollig. They were deep in a conversation about some new power kill strategy they wanted to try out. 

“Guys,” Jonny said. “This is Kaner, I think I introduced him to you?” Saader and Bollig both looked up at Jonny, smiling.

“I think you introduced Kaner to everyone three times,” Saader said. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool, though. What’s up, man?” Bollig said. Sharpy was back with his beer, and he took a seat right in-between Pat and Jonny.

“So, Patrick,” Sharpy said, snaking his arm around his shoulders. “I hear my good friend Toe-es has taken a liking to you.” Sharpy was smirking, stealing a look from Jonny, who’s neck was staring to get red again. “I just wanted to let you know that Jonathan here is my boy. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to my boy, you know what I mean?” Pat nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “Because if anything does seem to happen to him, you’re the first person I’m hunting down.” Pat just stared at him, unsure if he was being serious or not. Sharpy’s mouth soon turned into a smile, and Pat relaxed a little bit, bopping his head to the beat of the music. 

“Alright, well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a beer pong game to dominate. Tata for now,” he said, getting up and slapping Pat on the shoulder. Saader and Bollig exchanged a look, and both got up to go refill their drinks, leaving Pat and Jonny alone on the couch. Jonny shifted over so he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Pat, identical bottle of beer in clutched in his hand.

“So,” Jonny said. Pat turned to look at him. Even though the room was dark, he could make out his features: his dark, chocolate brown eyes, the scar on his cheek. He had long eyelashes, Pat thought, longer than his, and that was saying something.

“Enough with the small talk,” Pat said, grinning. Before Jonny had a chance to register what was happening, Pat was leaning in, slotting his lips with Jonny’s. He was tense, but soon unwound and used his free hand to cup the side of Pat’s face. Pat pulled away, taking a long pull on his beer.

“What was that for?” Jonny asked as Pat stood up.

“Something to remember me by. Night, Jonny,” he said, taking one last swig of his beer before walking out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

“I don’t _know_ what it means, dick face. I told you - he kissed me, drank the last of his beer, and high-tailed his ass out of there. He hasn’t texted me yet, should I text him first? I don’t know how to do this,” Jonny said, sinking his face into his hands. Sharpy came up behind him, thumping him on the back.

“Wow, Captain Tazer, not sure what to do. These are uncharted waters, my friend. Shawzy? Any input? Or are you just good at hockey and running that mouth of yours?” he smirked.

“Hey, watch it, old man. I know where you live,” Shawzy said, narrowing his eyes. “And for Tazer’s problem here, I think you should just text him. Be ballsy, you always have been, in everything you do. Especially when you call me out,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I think he’s waiting on you, dude.”

As much as Jonny hated to admit it, he was probably right. Pat was the one who made the first move. It’s like chess: you make a move, and then you wait for your opponent to make the next one. It’s a mind game.

“Fine, fine. I’ll text him. What do I say?” Jonny asked, thumbing hovering over the keyboard.

“Well,” Sharpy said. “Just start off with a simple ‘hey’. Nothing to fuck up there.”

Within 3 minutes, Pat had replied back. _Hey man. What’s up?_

“How can he be so _casual_?” Jonny asked, bewildered as he stared at the screen. “He’s acting like the biggest thing in the history of the world didn’t just happen last night.”

“It was a kiss, Tazer,” Shawzy said. “One kiss.”

“Alright, fuck off,” Jonny said. _Not much really. You?_

“See, there ya go. Just keep it smooth,” Sharpy said, fiddling with the Xbox under Jonny’s TV. “You got the new _NHL 17_?”

“Yeah, in the first drawer above the Xbox,” Jonny replied, eyes glued on the 3 dots that popped up instantly. Shawzy grabbed the other remote, and soon they were going at it as if they were actually on the ice.

_Just about to go study for my stats test tomorrow. You wanna come?_

“Guys” Jonny said. “GUYS.” Still going at it. “ _GUYS!”_ Both boys snapped their heads up, Shawzy’s team scoring on Sharpy’s distraction. “Aw, c’mon Tazer! What?!” Sharpy groaned.

“He asked me to go study with him. ‘ _Study_ ’,” he said, in air quotes. “What do I do? I did all my homework already.”

“‘Course ya did, ya big nerd,” Shawzy said. “Just bring my stuff, I haven’t finished last month’s paper. Oops,” he said, turning back to the game.

“You’ll be fine, Jon,” Sharpy said, catching the nervous look on Jonny’s face. “You always are.”

He turned his attention back to his phone. Pat wanted to be casual? Fine. He’d show him casual.

_Sure. Library in 15?_

_See ya there._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluffy feelings in this chapter YAY!!! Enjoy!

Pat was never told where to meet Jonny in the library, so he just sat in the lobby waiting for him to walk in. He was late by 3 minutes, and even though it wasn’t very much, he felt like he could give him shit for it anyway.

“Captain Stickler, late to our date. Tisk tisk,” he said, shaking his head. Jonny’s face flushed up, looking down at his feet.

“This isn’t a date. And I had to feed Stanley,” he mumbled, shifting his weight. “I’m never late,” he said, looking up at Pat, only to see he was smirking under his blonde curls. 

“I was kidding, loser. Who’s Stanley?” he asked, grabbing his backpack and pushing the doors open. Jonny followed close behind, letting Pat lead the way.

“He’s my cat. I got him last year, he’s good company to have around,” he said as they weaved their way through the aisles of books. “My roommate is out most of the time, so he makes it feel a lot less lonely,” he said. Pat felt a sudden pang of sadness - Jonny felt lonely. He thought that Jonny was the popular guy, all the friends, all the girls. It never crossed his mind that he could be feeling lonely. Pat made a mental note to hangout with him more.

“Aw, how cute,” Pat said, half-mockingly. “I actually love cats, so I hope to meet Stanley sometime in the future,” he said, smiling up at Jonny. They found a table in the back of the library, in the corner of the fourth floor. Pat took a seat next to Jonny instead of across from him, and took out his stats textbook.

“Holy shit dude, how much do you learn in a semester?” Jonny asked, gaping at the problems Pat had so neatly written in his notebook. “That looks like enough math to last me until I’m like, 65 years old.”

Pat just smiled at Jonny’s crazy eyes. “This is review for my first quiz. It’s simple shit, really, just basic percentages and comparative situations, like, if I had six red marbles, and ten blue marbles, and I randomly stuck my hand in the bag of marbles and picked out five marbles, what’s the chances I get red and what’s the chances I get blue?” he said, only to confuse Jonny more. His face was scrunched up as he stared at the numbers on the page. 

“Okay, but how do you even _get_ those numbers? Like that problem seems too vague like you don’t have enough information to solve it,” he said. Jonny was an answers guy - he wanted to know the answer and he wanted to know _why_ , even if there wasn’t any real explanation. He wasn’t rude or stuck up because he knew so much, but he was intelligent and reliable in that way. He wanted information, wanted to use it to make himself and others around him better, and Pat couldn’t help but simmer in the warm feeling he got in his stomach when he thought about just how smart Jonny is.

“Teach me,” he said, looking up at Pat. “I wanna know how to do it. Teach me.”

“But don’t you have homework to do?” Pat asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nah,” Jonny said. “I finished it all this weekend. I just took Shawzy’s shit because he doesn’t do anything anyway,” he said. “Seriously, I want you to teach me,” he said, firm.

Pat smiled as he started explaining the problem on the page. Before he knew it, it was almost midnight, Pat drawing examples on the white board in their study room. He hadn’t realized how helpful Jonny had been - he was giving him examples from his study guide and making him talk it out and explain it in detail. Pat knew every problem in that packet inside and out. He was going to rock that test. They were walking out of the library when Pat turned and grabbed Jonny by the arm. God, he had nice muscles. Besides the point.

“Hey, thanks for helping me study. You didn’t have to do that,” he said, holding his gaze for a few seconds before squeezing his arm and letting go, continuing towards his car. Jonny had walked there - his apartment wasn’t too far from the library. 

Jonny smiled at the quick touch. “It’s no problem, seriously. I like that kinda stuff. Stats have always interested me, with hockey and stuff. My dad was really big into that kinda stuff, using it to make me and my brother better. I just never really knew how to calculate them,” he said.

Pat’s heart jumped with warmth. Hearing about Jonny’s childhood was something he loved, for some strange domestic reason. He could see it now - baby Jonny, trying on his pair of skates, jumping around his living room in an NHL jersey that was far too big for him, not forgetting to thank his parents over and over again for the best birthday gift ever, until next year at least. Kid Jonny spending every hour of the day on the rink in the backyard, the harsh winters of Winnipeg keeping him bundled up. Jonny had told him how he got into hockey when they took a break from counting marbles, Pat begging him to share stories. And then older Jonny, playing his heart and soul out for the scouts that came to his Shattuck St. Mary’s games - big time scouts, Chicago Blackhawks scouts. He had said it so causally that Pat almost spit out his water, like, the _Chicago fucking Blackhawks_ wanted him to play for them. He had said the scouting reports on him were pretty good, and there was a good chance that he could play for them. So when the draft rolled around, and he was drafted 3rd overall by the Hawks, it was no surprised that he became very mature very quick. He was still the same goofy Jonny he had always been, according to Sharpy and Bollig, but he had dreams he had to pursue, and life wasn’t going to wait around. He admired that about Jonny, quick to prioritize what was important and never take his eyes off the prize. It was contagious.

He felt Jonny shake his shoulder, bringing him back to the parking lot of the library. “Earth to Kaner,” Jonny said, chuckling. “Can I catch a ride? I don’t want to walk back this late,” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. For sure, dude, hop in,” Pat said, unlocking the car and climbing into the driver’s seat. He started the car and his old time music was blasting through the speakers from the last time he was in it. “Oh, shit, sorry!” he said, scrambling to turn the volume down. 

“No! No! I like this, who is this, Stevie Wonder?” Jonny asked, bobbing his head to the beat. _Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours!_ Jonny was singing along in the passenger’s seat, voice terrible and not good enough for his ears, but Pat found himself admiring him anyway. He made another mental note: _find ways to make Jonny sing like a blithering idiot more often. He looks really, really happy._

The ride to Jonny’s was too short for his liking, not even a full song’s length away from the parking lot. He pulled into the parking lot behind Jonny’s apartment complex, putting the car in park once he came up to his door. Jonny hesitated for a beat, flickering between Pat’s lips and his eyes. Then, he leaned over, and pressed his lips to Pat’s using his free hand to cup his chin. Pat made a sound he wasn’t aware he could make, and just when Pat was started to melt into Jonny, he pulled away. Pat whined, reaching for Jonny again, but he just grabbed his bag and swung the door open.

“Patience is a virtue, Patrick. Goodnight,” he said with a wink, leaving Pat sitting in his car, bewildered and wanting more. The last person who called him Patrick with that much emotion was his grandfather, and he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. _Damnit._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat finds out that he has feelings and that he isn't very good at understanding them.

“No, Jackie, I don’t know what it means!” Pat yelled into the phone. “I kissed him that one time as _a joke_. I didn’t think he would actually make this into something else!”

“Oh my _GOD,_ guys, Patty has feelings!” Erica chimed in. Great, he was on speakerphone.

“Jackie, why did you put me on speaker?! Where’s mom?” he asked, panicky.

“Don’t worry, she’s not here,” she said. “And I won’t tell her either,” she added, and Pat could hear her smile through the phone. “Just keep it fun, don’t do anything too crazy. Do what feels right.”

“Oh thanks, that really helps. _Just keep it fun_ what kind of advice is that? I’m not a girl, I don’t speak girl, and you guys are no help,” Pat said, hinting at sarcasm. He was secretly grateful for his sisters help - he isn’t very good in the dating department. “Alright, I gotta go, practice is in half an hour. Thanks guys, miss you,” he said, hanging up after saying their goodbyes.

Pat wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Jonny when he saw him at the rink. It seemed a little mundane to just say, “Hey man,” in passing. They had two big moments, _big, big_ moments. It seemed as though tension was hanging in the air between them, just waiting to be popped. Pat grabbed his bag and stepped out the door to walk to the arena. It was close enough where he didn’t need to drive, and he liked walking through campus to get there.

He pulled the door to the rink open, letting the cold rush of air from the ice hit him as he descended down the steps. He took his usual place on the visitors bench, taking out his graph paper and pencil. He had some stats that he wanted to go over from the last home game, a 4-3 victory of the University of Wisconsin - Madison. While Duncs and Seabs had great games on the defensive end, he wanted to talk to Crow about his save percentage - his glove side significantly better than his stick side, and Pat had some ideas about how he could sharpen that up for him. Just as he was starting to plug numbers into his calculator, he heard skates sharpen on the freshly covered ice. Jonny skated over to him, stopping in front of the boards.

“Hey man,” he said, and _no shit_ Pat thinks, _he didn’t just say what I was trying to avoid_. “What’s up?” smile peeking through under his tired eyes. It looked like he was up all night, the college aspect of college getting the best of him.

Like Jackie said, keep it fun. Keep him guessing. “Not much man. Just looking over some stats from the UW game. You okay?” he asked. Jonny’s eyes snapped up, grabbing his. He had signs of dark circles under them, his pretty chocolate eyes looking defeated, nothing like their usual fire.

“Oh, yeah, just had a big project due today, and I totally forgot about it this week, so I had to do it all last night. But I got it turned in, so that’s all that matters,” Jonny said, rubbing his hand across his face. He needed sleep. Badly.

“Are your roommates loud?” Pat asked. “At night?”

“What? I mean, sometimes. They have girls over all the time, so I can hear them banging on the walls, and when they have like, mid-week parties. Those literally suck,” he said, leaning against the wall between him and Pat. “But I’ll be fine.”

Pat didn’t buy it for a second. He lived alone - his two bedroom apartment was good enough for him, with a guest bedroom for when his sisters come to visit. The bed was always made, and there was always beer in the fridge, and he got all the good TV channels. He even had protein shake shit, because just because he couldn’t actually play doesn’t mean he couldn’t still keep in shape. 

“You wanna crash at my place tonight?” he asked, making a leap of faith. Jackie’s voice echoed in his head: _Don’t do anything crazy._ This wasn’t that crazy, right?

“What?” Jonny asked. “Really?” he said, catching himself. He looked hopeful, but didn’t want to get his hopes up too high. 

“Yeah, of course. I have an extra room, and I live alone, so no need to worry about noise complaints,” he said, scratching at his head. He was nervous, and he shouldn’t have been nervous. This was Jonny. Nothing crazy. 

“That would be great man. I just need to sleep for at least one good night,” he said, looking down at his skates sheepishly. “How does 8 sound?” he asked.

“8 is perfect, I’ll send you my address after practice,” Pat said. Shawzy, Sharpy and Saader came out of the locker room just then, skating up to where Pat and Jonny were standing. “Boys, boys, party at my place tonight,” Sharpy said. “Expect to see you all there.”

“Sharpy, it’s a Tuesday night,” Jonny said. “And I’ve got a 9 am class tomorrow, so I’ll take a pass there. Sorry bud,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. Sharpy gave him a look of disappointment, but must’ve seen the exhaustion in Jonny’s eyes, because he said, “Alright man. Next time though, your ass is on the keg first thing,” a smirk playing on his lips.

“Sounds good to me,” Jonny said. Practice started shortly after that, drills and shooting practice and more drills and some scrimmage. Pat was able to catch Crow in between shooting target practice, helping him with his weak side, and knocked Bollig on the helmet when he scored the game winner goal in the scrimmage. It was a good practice, he could feel the energy from the boys last win giving them confidence for their upcoming rivalry game against North Dakota State University on Saturday. Pat waited for Jonny outside the locker room doors, able to catch the last minutes of the Blackhawks game. Jonny was the first guy out, hair fresh from a shower and bag slung slightly over his shoulder. 

“You’re allowed to come in the locker room, dude,” Jonny said. “You’re always welcome.”

Pat’s heart swelled with, whatever feeling he was experiencing, when he saw Jonny’s face. He was sincere. Everything about Jonny was sincere, but Pat decided to go for the joke anyway. “Thanks, but I’d rather not experience just how bad you boys smell.” He smiled, and Jonny smiled back. It was warm and it made Pat’s heart do a little flip flop under his UND sweatshirt.

“Yeah, good choice,” he said. “I’m gonna run back to my place and grab some clothes, and I’ll be back at your place after that. You’re on Main, right?”

“Yeah, 1843 is my place. Just knock when you get there,” Pat said. Jonny headed off to his car, and Pat couldn’t help but feel like he was going to throw up. He never got nervous, he never let the pressure get to him. But this was uncharted territory. He didn’t know how to act around Jonny. He didn’t want to screw anything up, wreck the little string that was holding up their…friendship? Relationship? He didn’t know what to call it. He just knew that it was something he wanted to keep around for a while.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy snuggles ensure. Approach with caution.

Pat was restless the whole time he was waiting for Jonny to show up. He kept rearranging the magazines on the coffee table, making sure the kitchen was clean. He didn’t think that Jonny was that much of a neat freak, but he wanted to make a good impression anyway. He was placing the _ESPN_ magazine on the top of the pile for the tenth time when he heard a knock on the door. Pat called that it was open, come on in, and Jonny stepped into the living room. He had change into sweatpants and a UND hockey sweatshirt, one that was loose on his frame and looked like it was worn in from years and years of love. He looked even more tired than he was when he saw him at practice - eyelids droopy and it was only 10 pm. 

“Thanks again for letting me stay over. Ryan - one of my roommates - was planning on throwing a party tonight and I wasn’t about to try and sleep through that,” he said, kicking his shoes off by the door. He had a small duffel bag with him, big enough for a change of clothes and his toothbrush. Pat had this weird domestic feeling wash over him; he wanted to see Jonny’s toothbrush in his bathroom and he wanted to see him on his couch, helping himself to the remote, and making smoothies in his kitchen. 

“No problem man,” Pat said, grabbing a seat in front of the TV. “I was just about to watch SportsCenter highlights if you wanted to watch with me,” he said, cringing. He sounded like a thirteen year old boy who didn’t know what flirting was.

“Sure, I love SportsCenter,” he said, lounging back on the cushions. Not even 10 minutes into the show, he could see Jonny starting to nod off. He would shake his head a little bit, not remembering where he was, and when he saw Pat next to him, he would relax back and repeat the process. It was around 11 pm when Pat got up to get some water when Jonny spoke up. 

“Hey, could you show me to the guest room?” he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. He didn't even bother grabbing his duffel - he looked like he just wanted to knock out for a while. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Pat said, turning around and leading the way down the hallway. “Did you set an alarm for tomorrow? I don’t want you to miss any classes or anything,” he said, turning on the lamp so Jonny could see where he was going.

“Nah, I’m gonna skip my morning class tomorrow,” Jonny said, climbing under the covers. He pulled them up to his chin, just like Pat did when he was cold. “I haven’t slept in 3 days, I need to at least try,” he said, yawning. Pat turned to turn off the light once Jonny was set.

“Good choice, bud. I’ll be down the hall if you need me,” Jonny’s eyes were already starting to close, heavy and laced with what promised to be a good night’s sleep. Pat was closing the door behind him when he heard Jonny whisper “Pat?” through the darkness. Pat spun on his heels, squinting to try and see Jonny. “Yeah?” he whispered back. He froze in the doorway.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked, voice soft and vulnerable. Pat’s heart was racing, but he felt a twinge of love deep in his stomach, and managed to breathe out a “Yeah,” crossing the room and crawling under the covers next to Jonny. Pat wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do - just lay there and let Jonny make the move? Scoot closer to him? Stare at the ceiling?

As soon as he pulled the covers over him, Jonny was rolling over and dragging his arm around Pat’s torso. He snuggled closer, bringing his head up to Pat’s collarbone, breathing soft breaths there. He squeezed Pat’s side, sighing a breath of relief as he fell deeper and deeper asleep. “That’s better,” he said, barely audible under the covers. Pat wrapped his arm around Jonny’s back, rubbing small circles with his fingers without a real purpose. “Night, Jonny,” was the last thing he said before sleep overtook them.

In the morning, Jonny was still wrapped around Jonny, except that he found himself sticking to his back, his hand interlocked with Jonny’s at his stomach. It was late morning, he guessed, by the way the sun poured in heavy. He laid there for a few moments, placing soft kisses on the back of Jonny’s next, nuzzling his nose in deeper. He didn’t want this moment to end, so he let himself relax until Jonny woke up on his own. When he did, he turned his head around to see a dozing Pat, halfway between being awake and being asleep. He must’ve felt the kisses on his neck, because Jonny returned the favor by kissing Pat’s forehead, causing him to peek one eye open.

“Hey,” he said, voice barley a whisper. He looked amazing like this, lazy and happy and worry less. “Wanna know something?” he asked.

Pat perked up, locking eyes with Jonny. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jonny looked down for a moment, a slight pink flush creeping up his neck. “I didn’t have a single nightmare last night, Pat. Not one.”

Pat’s protection system kicked in - Jonny had nightmares? “You have nightmares?” he asked, voicing his concern. Jonny took a deep breath before answering.

“Yeah. Ever since I was a kid. They were okay when I was younger, but now they’re almost every night. And they’re brutal. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I’m crying,” he said, voice small. “But I didn’t have a single one last night, Pat,” he said again, bringing his face in close. “I think I found my cure.”

Pat couldn’t help but smile, rubbing his hand along the side of Jonny’s face. “You got me, okay? You got me,” he said, and Jonny pulled him in for a kiss, smiling the whole time. “You got pancake mix?” he asked. Pat just smiled harder, grabbing his hand and leading the way to the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a long delay on this chapter guys...writer's block sometimes gets the best of you. but here's something to tie you over until chapter 9. I'm thinking of cutting it off at 10 chapters, but we'll see. enjoy:)

The next couple weeks were just like the last - school and games during the week, stats filed away in Coach Q’s office every Friday, sleepovers on the weekends. Pat didn’t mind staying at his place all the time - he liked the company, and he hated that Jonny had nightmares when he slept without him. It was like indirectly hurting Pat, and when Jonny’s body was snuggled all close to his, breath even and unrushed, he felt better, safer. Jonny’s arms would cocoon around his side, pulling him closer and closer until he was as close as he could get, and they’d fall asleep just like that. It was magic, Pat was convinced. And nobody knew, which was already weight off their shoulders. 

Until Shawzy and Sharpy skated over to where Pat was taking stats one Tuesday night home game during warm ups, stopping abruptly in front of him. Pat looked up at them through his glasses - they had smirks on their faces, passing each other looks as good as they pass each other the puck. 

“Hey Kaner,” Sharpy said, and oh no, he was in trouble. 

“Hi Sharpy, Shawzy. Shouldn’t you guys be trying to show off for the girls in the crowd right about now? Doing dekes and figure eights and stuff like that?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. But Shawzy piped up, and he knew he was knee deep in a conversation he _really_ didn’t want to have.

“You know damn well why we’re over here, Kaner,” he said. “We want to talk about our dear old captain with you.” He smirked again, holding back a chuckle as he looked at Sharpy.

Deciding to go the _I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about_ route, Pat said, “Jonny? Oh yeah, his face off percentage is the best in the division right now, he could work on getting in on the forecheck a little bit more but I mean other than that if he keeps racking up points they way he’s been doing he’ll be the leader for sure.” 

“Not what we’re talking about, buddy,” Sharpy said, leaning in close. “What’s the deal with you and him? Anything, you know, different?” Shawzy followed up with, “Seriously, dude, it’s weird. And like, yeah he’s good, but he’s playing even BETTER. I don’t get it, what are you doing to him?”

“I”m not doing anything with Jonny,” Pat said, as calm as he could be. “Promise. We’re just buddies. I help him with his math homework and he teaches me how to eat healthy. It’s a good balance,” he said, coming up with a lie on the spot. It wasn’t exactly wrong, but it wasn’t the full truth either. But it seemed to work, because after exchanging another look, they said, “Okay then,” and skated off to finish up warm ups. Pat breathed a sigh of relief, because that was too close, and he never wanted to get that close again. He needed to talk to Jonny, as soon as he could.

They ended up winning the game that night, a 3-0 shutout victory for the Fighting Sioux. The boys had a great game - Jonny scoring 2 of the 3 goals, and assisting on the third. Pat could hear the whoops coming from the locker room after the game while he waited in the hallway so he could grab a bite to eat with Jonny before starting on their homework for the night. Jonny came out a few minutes later, hair wet from the shower he probably just got out of, and he wrapped his arm around Pat’s neck, ruffling up his hair a bit. There was nobody in the hallway, but Pat asked anyway: “Why haven’t you told anybody about us yet?” Jonny pulled away a little bit, giving Pat a confused look.

“What do you mean? I thought we were trying to keep it a secret?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway. 

“I mean, yeah, but I just thought about how you always hug me and sit close to me in public and around the guys and I just didn’t know if you told any of them because well, they’re your best friends and I thought like guys told guys everything, I don't know,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet. “I don’t want to confuse you.”

He felt Jonny’s hand come up to cup his chin, tilting his head back to where he could lock eyes with Pat’s. He bit his lip, hard enough to break skin. He didn’t want to be nervous around Jonny - this was Jonny, his best friend, his… _whatever_. It was just Jonny. Why did he make him so nervous? Down the hall, Saader and Crow walked out of the locker room, headed to the parking lot. They stopped when they saw Jonny and Pat down the hall, Jonny shooting a look their way.

“You want me to tell the guys?” he asked, looking at him. 

“I mean, if you want to, I don’t want to pressure you into-“ his sentence was broken off with a kiss, and after a few moments, they broke apart to see Saader and Crow’s chins hanging wide open, staring at them as if they just saw a ghost. Jonny smirked and grabbed Pat’s hand before he could say anything else. “Let’s go,” he said, dragging him in the opposite direction, too stunned to speak.

_Well, that’s one way to do it_ , he thought.


End file.
